Red Hot
by Invisiblegirl3
Summary: I clenched my fists and closed my eyes, letting air hiss out through my teeth like a deflating tire. I wanted to punch something, anything. Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter franchise. That would be J.K. Rowling you re thinking of.


I clenched my fists and closed my eyes, letting air hiss out through my teeth like a deflating tire. I wanted to punch something, anything. But there were girls in the stalls on either side of me, and if I let loose now, I`d be taken away in a white van by the happy doctors to the special hospital.

I unclenched my hands and held them up to inspect. They were a pinkish red, except for the small white crescents where my nails had dug into my flesh. I resisted the urge to bang my head against the gratified stall walls. I had to get outta here before I became Moaning Myrtle.

I slid open the stall door and walked to the sink, each step I took more painful than the last.

I didn`t, couldn`t look in the mirror. I washed my hands and walked out.

Half way down the hall I realized my hands were soaking wet. I`d forgotten to dry them. It didn`t matter.

When I got to Trelawney's class, I walked right up to her and ignoring my best friend, who was trying to get my attention over at our table.

"Can I go to the Hospital Wing? I`m not feeling well. I`ve got a sore throat, stomach ache, headache, and a possible fever." It was true enough, except for the fever and nothing could be tested for, so she had to take my word for it. Besides, the teacher`s probably knew why I`d been away that morning.

"Ah, yes, I foresaw this. Beware of the fourth floor corridor, more danger lurks there, and I fear it will prey harshly upon any who pass, and what with your fever and all, it would be near fatal. Make haste!" She handed me a pass.

"Yeah, thanks." I walked out without another word. I wasn`t in the mood to humor her today.

I went to the common room instead of the Hospital Wing. On the way there, I made sure to take the route through the fourth floor corridor.

When I got to the empty dorm, I laid face down on my bed and screamed as loud as I could.

I finally came up for air with my face red and streaked with hot tears.

My fists pounded on the pillow in a fiery rage. It wasn`t enough. The pain ached, pounded in my chest as if my blood itself was liquid agony, pumping out to all ends of my body. It pounded around in the inside of my head, enhancing with every second, demanding to be felt.

I threw the pillow across the room, hitting and breaking a lamp. Better. I roundhouse kicked the wall, breaking a giant hole in it. My leg permeated even more pain. I focused of that, trying to block everything else. The throbbing felt good, almost, in comparison.

I picked up my wand and repaired the hole in the wall and the broken lamp like I wished I could repair the elderly man who`s ashes had been entombed this morning. I didn't want to fix the hole in my heart. I didn`t want to forget, like he had.

I lied on my back in the center of my bed, limb's askew. I thought about the man, how when I was little, he would 'accidentally' drop money on the ground for me and my siblings to pick up. Who slowly forgot my name, but not me entirely. Who wrote a letter to the dean of my uni when I was ten, and I never told him that I was still in primary school. I still have the letter tucked in at the bottom of my trunk.

I remembered the service that morning. The military priest reading out of a book the same passage he`d read in the same monotone several times that morning and all the days before that, and would continue to read at funerals until he too was put to rest. I saw again the bored look in the soldiers eyes, none of which had ever known my grandfather. I remembered the seven attendees of the funeral, three of us in dresses, two in jeans, two in suits. I saw again the single bouquet that was placed on the box of ashes. And, finally, I allowed myself to think of the grid-like wall that the box of ashes and the flowers were placed in. B-15, like in Battleship, a game I used to play with my muggle friends, which I suppose is ironic considering. Depressing, but ironic.

My grandmother, I knew would be confused when everyone came home. Maybe my muggle sister and brother would explain it to her. My mother had told us at the service that she wouldn`t understand, but I hoped they would explain anyway. She deserves to know, even if she can`t remember any of us.

I flipped through my Divination textbook, not really looking at any of the pages. I was a muggle born, so my parents had made me keep my magic a secret from everyone except my siblings. Even my grandparents didn`t know. Somehow, maybe I could have figured out a spell to fix their memories. But I hadn`t, and it was too late to save him. All the magic in the world couldn`t bring him back now.

I had almost considered breaking my wand earlier, but my sister had come up behind me and seen and said, "Don`t give up everything just because something terrible happens. Life is hard, but the world keeps spinning, and we spin along with it."

My sister always knows what to say.

I finally hauled myself out of bed after my last class was over. As I was on the stairs to the common room, I saw something shiny lying discarded on the corner of one of the steps. Kneeling down, I saw it was a galleon that must have dropped out of someone`s bag.

I picked it up and smiled. It was just like what my grandfather used to do.

When I got to the common room, my friend was waiting for me in one of the chairs by the fire. "Hungry?" He asked.

"Yeah. I missed lunch." I still hadn`t told him about why I`d been out of school that morning.

"I know. Do you feel up to going to the kitchens for a snack?"

"Sure."

He got up and we walked out of the common room, our arms brushing and hands not quite touching as we set off on our quest. I knew then that although life wouldn`t be the same after today, my sister was right. Life would go on, and I would, eventually, be okay.


End file.
